I found this picture on Twitter not too long ago, re-tweeted it, choosing mirrors and escape hatches:
Courtesy of Goodreads
When something so bothers you and you can’t seem to properly function without it clawing at your every thought, how do you get away from it? We all have our ways. Watch a movie. Work in the garden. Knit a sweater. Get drowned in alcohol.
Bookworms would undoubtedly grab a book and lose themselves in a story wholly different from theirs.
In the time between now and when I first saw the picture above, a lot has happened to make books as escape hatches take on a higher level of escapism.
I have since discovered that hollow words, broken promises, and a reluctantly changing love can gnaw at you until you feel so forlorn that no book could distract you enough even for a couple of minutes. I went from one title to another. From non-fiction to fiction. From classics to contemporary. Love and Responsibility. No. Romantic Tales from Old Korea. No, not that. The Prophet. Please no. Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters. No, no, no!
It felt as though I was losing my passion for reading. At that thought, I was filled with guilt and sorrow – no, I cannot bear to lose two loves! I pleaded to my bookcase, Please. Please give me something to forget all this. Even for just a while. Something with such strong local color that would immediately transport me somewhere else. Let me live someone else’s life for a while. This is too much.
Apparently, my bookcase heard my plea because it coughed up Thrity Umrigar’s The Space Between Us. This book had been in my case since April 2017, and had been waiting for the right opportunity to present itself. True to what I was seeking, I momentarily lost myself in its rich local color and gripping story. True enough, I got to live someone else’s life.
A rich book
The struggle for the perfect distraction is still here. I recently passed up three titles before settling on another one, but I know this will pass. Anyway, here’s one good quote from The Space Between Us:
“The past is always present. No such thing as bringing it up. The past is like the skin on your hand – it was there yesterday and it is here today. It never goes anywhere.”
Life with Literature 